


that nasty scheming cat thief

by ramshackleheads



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pets, Social Media, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 08:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11620080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramshackleheads/pseuds/ramshackleheads
Summary: It's his dear cat's birthday, but Otabek just won’t give her back. That nasty scheming cat thief. Never mind that they bought her and took care of her together. Details, details. The cat was Yuri's, everyone knew that!





	that nasty scheming cat thief

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by this: http://imgur.com/a/EUIEc
> 
> enjoy!

**To: altin** (10:32)

<< wish samurai happy birthday from me

 

**From: altin** (10:46)

>> …..Okay.

 

**To: altin** (10:48)

<< and give her a treat

 

**From: altin** (11:03)

>> I already did. I was expecting your text

**From: altin** (11:04)

>> Can’t we talk about what happened

**From: altin** (11:53)

>> Yuri?

 

**To: altin** (13:00)

<< only thing im talking about with you is samurai. Bye talk to you again next year

**To: altin** (13:01)

<< send me pics of her

 

 

* * *

 

 

“That asshole,” Yuri hissed, chucking his phone across the locker room. He eyed it with disdain as it bounced across the dirty floor. He made no immediate move to pick it up. “That complete and utter  _ asshole _ , that nasty scheming cat thief, who does he think he is.”

 

“You know, the first time you talked about Otabek like that, I was shocked,” Mila hummed. She watched him from the corner of her eye while she tied up her hair. Yuri’s Otabek-related outbursts had become more commonplace as of recent – even Yakov just rolls his eyes at the young blond whenever it happens and nags at him to get back to doing his warmups. 

 

“Well, you shouldn’t be! He’s a– he’s–” Yuri struggled to find the right word. He groaned loudly. “He’s a douchebag.”

 

Mila chuckled and turned away, packing her change of clothes into the locker. “Wow, creative. I thought you had more than that in you.”

 

“God, whatever.”

 

Everyone at the rink knew what day it is. It was a  _ big _ day, as far as Yuri was ultimately concerned; a day that called for celebration and a feast. Behind Yakov’s back, of course. He was pretty damn sure the big custom chocolate cake he ordered with the cat’s face printed on the top wasn’t part of his diet plan. It was Samurai’s birthday, the Scottish fold cat that he and Otabek shared. Once shared? Still shared? It didn’t really matter. She was  _ Yuri’s _ cat, and fuck whoever denied that fact. Otabek was the asshole that refused to give her back to her rightful owner, back to her home in St. Petersburg with Puma Tiger Scorpion, where she belonged. 

 

With an annoyed flick of his growing hair, he slipped off his skate guards and stepped on the ice. It was one of the rare days where he was actually here before Yakov. What could he say – he was in a good mood that morning, remembering what day it was. Until he remembered, that of course, he doesn’t actually have the cat. 

 

“A most happy birthday to your Samurai, Yuri,” Georgi crooned as Yuri passed him by on the ice. “I hope she’s faring well.”

 

“I hope so too,” the blond grumbled, mostly to himself as he continued to skate slow, lazy laps around the rink. He thought about his dear cat, who must be so lonely and sad in Almaty, who was probably getting terrorized by that bad, bad man who probably didn’t even know what the correct diet for Scottish folds was.

 

The heavy sound of the main doors swinging open startled Yuri out of his stormy daydream.  

 

“Happy Birthday, Samurai!” Victor Nikiforov sang out, dramatic as ever, as he burst in with his husband in tow. “What a special day. Is the cake here yet?”

 

Katsuki waved at Yuri, always so mild-mannered. “Happy birthday to your cat,” he called out with a slight smile across his face.

 

Any other day, the blond would’ve flipped them off and threatened to crush them at the next Grand Prix Finals. But he let it slide this time. After all, today was a special day.

 

(But don’t get him wrong – he’s still going to crush them at the GPF.)

 

* * *

 

**From: altin** (13:55)

>>  _ altin _ sent a photo.

>> _ altin _ sent a photo.

>> _ altin _ sent a photo.

>> _ altin _ sent a photo.

>> _ altin _ sent a photo.

  
  


**To: altin** (14:16)

<< (thumbs up emoji)

 

\--

 

“It’s that damned cat’s birthday again today, isn’t it.”

 

Mila looked up from her phone and saw a tired (as usual) looking Yakov looking down at her with his eyebrows scrunched together. 

 

“Oh,” she said dumbly, after a long time. “What cat?” She wasn’t ready to be found in a cold, snowy ditch after being murdered by Yuri Plisetsky for letting Yakov find out about the secret party the blond had planned. 

 

“Mila.”

 

“Potya’s birthday was two months ago,” she chuckled, though it sounded a bit forced. She made the move to get up and get out of this conversation.

 

“Not  _ that _ one. Don’t play me for a fool. I’m talking about the other one, the one with the Japanese name? Samurai,” Yakov sighed.

 

“Ohhhh. Yeah. I guess it is?” She scratched the back of her neck. There was no getting out of this one. She silently resigned herself to a bloody death, but not before some chocolate cake.

 

“Hm, I could tell from the way that boy was acting. Less moaning and complaining. But they’re still broken up I presume? He and that Altin?”

 

It wasn’t like Yakov to suddenly take interest in the romantic endeavours of his skaters. In fact, he had made it a point to tell all of them to leave him out of it, that he has no interest in their sex lives, as long as it doesn’t affect their skating or their schedules. After witnessing the clusterfuck that was Georgi’s breakup, and later Victor’s glorified booty call (which lead to a very successful and happy marriage, thank you very much), Yakov had seen it all. 

 

Or at least he thought he had. He wasn’t counting on witnessing his star skater – who was a teenager with very teenager emotions –  break up with his long-distance boyfriend. He wasn’t counting on him getting into a relationship in the first place. Yakov didn’t know how to deal with the dilapidation of young love. He was in his  _ seventies _ , for God’s sake, which meant he was too old for this. 

 

It was a messy few months, but Yuri came out of it with higher jumps and more powerful spins. The boy skated best when he was fueled with spite, after all.

 

“They still are. Honestly, I don’t think Yuri is over it. The breakup, I mean… and Otabek in general,” the redhead replied, a bit sadly. “He talks as if Otabek is the worst person in the world, but there’s never any venom to it.”

 

“That Yurotchka,” the old man tsked.

 

Mila laughed quietly. “He’s a stubborn one. Well, so is his ex-boyfriend, since he still won’t give back the cat, even after a year and a half.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Although. Don’t tell Yuri this but, I liked him best when they were together. They were a good match.”

 

Yakov didn’t want to say he agreed, but he did. When the two were together and on good terms, Yuri was easier to talk to, was in a bad mood only four days a week at most, and was softer around the edges. In his old age, it was all that he could ask for at that point, as his coach and mentor. Besides, Altin was a good boy who was dedicated and seemed serious in his intentions.

 

She got up and dusted off the imaginary lint off her leggings. It was really time to go now, before her tongue slipped. She had said enough, and besides, it was weird talking to her coach about personal stuff, even if it wasn’t her own. “So, I’ll be going now. Thanks for training today!”

 

“Oh? We’re not done here, Babicheva.”

 

Her blood ran cold and she turned around slowly. “Uh...?”

 

“I suppose you have time for a side trip to the airport before the party?”

 

“Party? What party?” she shrieked piercingly. _Shit. Goodbye chocolate cake._ Yakov was solemn for a few moments and only looked at her steadily. Then: “Wait... what? Airport? Where are we going?!”

 

“Again, don’t play me for a fool. You’re to pick up that Altin boy and take him to the party, which I know Yurotchka holds every year. The  flight lands in an hour or so, you’d better chop it up.”

 

“Wh– Otabek? He’s coming here?!”

 

Yakov grumbled and fussed with his scarf. “I would volunteer to pick him up myself since I’m the one who told him to come – with the damn cat of course – but I have an important…  _ appointment _ with Lilia tonight. And, besides, I have no interest in the birthday party of a pet. I’ll see you tomorrow for training, Mila. And make sure they fix it, I hate seeing Yurotchka so angsty.”

 

She was out the door even before Yakov could take another step.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: altin** (18:04)

<< sending a pic of her cake. Show it to her 

<< _You_ sent a photo.

 

**To: altin** (18:25)

<< hellooooo

 

**To: altin** (18:31)

<< god at least reply asshole

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri paced around the living area of the Katsuki-Nikiforovs. The cake had arrived a good thirty minutes ago and it was beautiful, just how he envisioned it to be. Samurai looked as cute as ever with her picture on the top of the cake. Yuri almost didn’t want to eat it, but he knew his sweet tooth would get the best of him.

 

Everyone but Mila was present already – Puma Tiger Scorpion, Katsuki, Victor, Georgi, even Yuuko and the triplets, who flew in the same morning. Well, everyone except the actual celebrant, but that was an unnecessary detail that didn’t bother Yuri. Nope, it didn’t bother him. Not at all.

 

“Where the hell is she,” the blond barked. “Mila was supposed to be here an  _ hour  _ ago! We can’t start unless everyone is here!” There were many things to do, like blow out the candles on Samurai’s behalf, sing happy birthday, crack open the hidden vodka stash the teenager knew the couple was hiding in the bookshelf, and cry about the fact that Otabek didn’t want to give back his cat. In that order, preferably. Fun.

 

Katsuki took tentative steps around the table towards Yuri. “She’s still not answering your texts?”

 

Yuri tugged on his messy ponytail. “No, she usually does right away. And she’s usually not flaky.”

 

Georgi paled. “Perhaps she–”

 

“Whatever you’re going to say, I highly doubt it. If she got into an accident, we would’ve heard about it by now.”

 

“I’ll try calling Yakov. I think the two of them were the last ones at the rink,” Victor offered, being helpful for once. 

 

“You dumbass, then Yakov might find out.”

 

The older Russian man raised his infuriatingly perfectly shaped eyebrows. “You’d rather have Yakov finding about you eating a chocolate cake than maybe getting some information about Mila’s whereabouts? She may very well have gotten into an accident, you know.”

 

“You, I–”

 

Before Yuri could continue with his tirade, the door swung open, revealing a haggard looking Mila. Behind her trailed… Otabek, who had nobody other than the birthday celebrant in his arms.

 

Oh God, it was Otabek. The blond screeched. “What the hell?!”

 

“What the hell!” the triplets echoed, bringing their phones out. Yuuko sighed.

 

Mila took big strides towards the kitchen, unceremoniously took a water bottle out of the fridge, and started gulping it down. She gasped after finishing the whole bottle. “Before you start accusing me, this was  _ not _ my idea.”

 

“Neither was it mine,” muttered Otabek awkwardly, from where he stood by the door. Samurai had already jumped out of his arms to join Potya on the expensive rug. He didn’t know where to put his hands.

 

“Yakov sent him here, and told me to pick him up. Couldn’t answer my phone because it decided to die on me on the way to the airport, sorry.”

 

Yuri harshly turned to face his ex-boyfriend. All the other eyes in the room followed. “And  _ you _ –”

 

“I was told Victor was in the hospital and Yakov said I should visit just in case something goes wrong with the surgery, so I thought it was urgent,” the dark haired man fretted, slowly looking over to where Victor was standing next to Katsuki, perfectly fine. “...But obviously that isn’t true.”

 

Victor lamented, “That Yakov is so cruel, suggesting that my health is anything but impeccable!” His husband patted him on the back, comforting. “But thanks for your concern!”

 

Mila leaned against the counter. “Well, Yuri? Is that all you have to tell Otabek?”

 

The blond looked over at Otabek again, and eyed him suspiciously. He still looked the same, dressed in the same kinds of clothes he usually wore. His hair was a bit longer at the back. If anything, he certainly didn’t look like he just got on a last-minute flight to another country. Yuri had to admit that he looked  _ good _ . But he shook those thoughts out of his head. They were ex-boyfriends, and thinking that he looked good was not allowed.

 

“You look good, Otabek,” Katsuki commented, cutting through the pregnant silence. Well, at least  _ one _ Yuri would say it out loud.

 

“Oh, thanks.”

 

“I have nothing to say to him. But I’m happy, only because Samurai is here,” Yuri asserted. He bent down angrily to pet his adorable cat, who purred in return.

 

Mila got the hint that that was all they were going to get out of the blond, at least for now. Maybe Yakov’s grand scheme of flying Otabek over to Russia wasn’t such an impeccable scheme after all. He was missing the most important part of the equation, the fact that Yuri was a prideful little shit. With a sigh, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry. Cake?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**To: altin** (9:33)

<< thanks for bringing samurai 

<< i guess

 

**From: altin** (9:40)

>> When Yakov told me to take the next flight, I figured I would be seeing you

>> And I figured you would want to see Samurai

 

**To: altin** (9:42)

<< youre staying with victor and katsuki right

<< when are you leavifn

<< leaving

 

**From: altin** (9:43)

>> Yeah. I leave tomorrow morning

>> Why?

 

**From: altin** (10:27)

>> Yuri?

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Yuri found himself back at the Katsuki-Nikiforov’s flat the next morning, interrupting the couple’s (plus Otabek’s) brunch. But he didn’t care. He walked straight up to his ex and looked him dead in the eye for the first time ever since he arrived last night. Otabek looked slightly spooked, as he was accosted by the small blond mid-bite.

 

“Yurio! How dramatic!” Victor gasped over his scrambled eggs. Katsuki serenely sipped his green tea. 

 

“Good morning, Yuri,” the Japanese man greeted.

 

“We. Need. To. Talk,” he repeated, more harshly, purposely ignoring the couple. “C’mon.”

 

Otabek slowly put down his knife and fork, and followed Yuri into the guest bedroom. Not like he had a choice. He shot an apologetic look towards Victor and Yuri for indirectly being the reason why their previously peaceful meal was being interrupted by the fuming blond. They didn’t seem to mind and waved him off. It was embarrassing enough that he imposed himself in their apartment without prior notice the night before.

 

“Don’t play too rough! We just redecorated the guest room!” Victor called out, unashamedly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri pointed to the bed, motioning for him to sit down. He wasted no time, closing the door behind him and locking it. “Give back my cat. I’m not letting you out until you agree to.”

 

“Yuri, we went over this already.”

 

“Then let’s go over it  _ again _ . Give her back.”

 

“I’m the one that bought her.”

 

“But it was  _ my _ idea to buy Samurai in the first place!” 

 

Otabek looked away stubbornly and said nothing. He wasn’t exactly prepared to get into a shouting match with his ex-boyfriend at this hour. 

 

Yuri balled his fist at his sides and snarled, not unlike his pet cats. “I don’t even fucking get why you wanna keep her so bad, you said yourself that you never really cared for having a cat before!”

 

The other boy muttered, “We got her because you wanted to.”

 

“Exactly!” the blond seethed. “So she’s mine! I named her, I fed her, I petted her, I bought her her cat bed and litter...”

 

“We  _ shared  _ her. I did all of those things too, you know.”

 

“Look, Otabek. It’s been a year and a half. You’ve obviously gotten over it, you don’t even look like you’ve gone through a breakup. So just make things easier for the both of us, Jesus.”

 

They stared at each other sharply. The older boy was the first to look away.

 

“I haven’t,” he admitted quietly.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I said, I haven’t gotten over it.”

 

“What?” Yuri cackled. “The breakup? Sure you have.”

 

“No. I haven’t. And I’m keeping Samurai.”

 

The blond opened his mouth, but closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. Otabek looked perfectly well-adjusted, unlike Yuri who had tried so hard to get his life back on track. It seemed, at least to the Russian, that the breakup was only a miniscule bump in the road to Otabek. Hell, if his Instagram was anything to go by (which Yuri  _ definitely _ didn’t stalk for months), the older boy was having so much more fun now that they were broken up. There were pictures of him out and about hiking, in nightclubs and in bars, and at the rink. His life went on. Yuri felt a newfound rage boil inside of him, begging to be let out.

 

“You liar, you asshole,” he sniffed, his voice getting all wobbly. “Of course you’re over it.”

 

Otabek’s eyes widened and he immediately leaned forward to reach out to the other boy. “Yuri, I–”

 

“Don’t touch.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Don’t say you’re not over it. You don’t know how hard it was for me!”

 

“I… I don’t. But it was hard for me,  _ too _ , Yuri. You just told me you wanted to end it, without even giving me the chance to speak!”

 

“Long distance never would have worked, and we both know it,” he murmured bitterly.

 

“But I at least wanted to try!”

 

Now Otabek’s voice was getting shaky too. Yuri wondered to himself how stupid he would hypothetically look if he unlocked the door and walked out of there, back to the rink, as if nothing ever happened. But that would be a really shitty thing to do, he figured, even for someone like him.

 

“I wanted to try, but you made up your mind already. I had no choice but to move on with my life,” Otabek continued. “And you know why I want to keep the cat?”

 

Yuri didn’t say anything in reply, but he got an answer anyways. 

 

“I wanted to keep her because she reminded me of you. Of us. Samurai was like my last real connection to you, Yuri. She was the one thing we shared. I thought to myself, as long as I held on to her, you’d still have a reason to talk to me. You loved her so much, I know.”

 

“What?”

 

“I never wanted you out of my life, is what I’m saying,” Otabek sighed out, wiping at his eyes.

 

Yuri looked at him for a long time. “I wanted her back so badly, you know. So badly, I thought that I started to hate you for it.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I thought you were deliberately being a cold, mean jackass, dangling this over my head. I thought you were doing this to mock me, so you could get the last laugh.”

 

Otabek put his head in his hands and shut his eyes tightly. “Yura, I… I would never. It wasn’t like that. I’m sorry if it looked that way.”

 

The blond bit the inside of his cheek and studied his ex. He looked sincere, he looked distraught over the misunderstanding. Yuri felt that he also needed to reprimand himself for thinking someone as earnest and straightforward as Otabek would ever do something so malicious. Of course he would never. Yuri had been stupid, too, blinded by his rancor. 

 

And hearing the reason behind him holding on to Samurai as if his life depended on it was so sweet, so  _ Otabek _ . Yuri felt a wave of longing and… dare he say, affection for the other boy wash over him.

 

“Otabek. Look up.” He did.

 

“Would you mind if…”

 

“If?”

 

“If we shared Samurai again? I– I want to try.”

 

The other boy’s expression blossomed into something open and hopeful. “You mean?”

 

The Russian felt himself heating up and turning red at the realization of what he just voiced out. He was growing soft. “Yeah, asshole. I think it’s alright to say that we were both, you know. Stupid about it.”

 

“You want to try again?”

 

“Isn’t that what I just implied?”

 

Otabek grinned a watery smile. “But I want to hear you  _ say  _ it.”

 

“Jerk. Yeah, let’s. Let’s try again.”

 

The next thing he knew, he was being hugged tightly by Otabek. It was surprising, but not unwelcome. Not at all. He let himself smile into his now ex-ex boyfriend’s shirt, silently thanking the stupid, furry, cat for bringing them back together. Then, as if on cue, they heard a familiar sounding  _ meow _ right outside the door. Yuri and Otabek laughed into each others mouths, content and comfortable.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Yakov eyed him suspiciously the next day. He was fashionably late, after dropping off Otabek at the airport and their extended goodbyes. Yuri was in a good mood, even better than yesterday, albeit a bit wistful over his boyfriend’s ( _ boyfriend’s! _ ) premature departure. They had planned to visit each other soon, though, and Otabek promised to Facetime him the minute he landed safely in Almaty.

 

Mila quietly came up behind him and whacked him across the back. Smirking deviously, she teased, “I heard the news, Yuri! I always got the feeling you two would get back together, you know.”

 

The blond rolled his eyes and looked away. “Let me guess. The whole world knows about what happened because Victor couldn’t keep his mouth shut, as usual. Why am I even surprised.”

 

She giggled and took out her phone from her back pocket. “Oh, so you haven’t seen? Seriously?”

 

“Seen what?”

 

“Aren’t you on Instagram 24/7? Here, Otabek posted this an hour ago or so!”

 

Yuri swiped her phone. He felt his cheeks heat up immediately. It was the selfie they took the night before, with Samurai squished between the two of them, in mid-yawn. 

 

**otabek-altin**

My two favorites. (smiling cat emoji)

Liked by  **v-nikiforov** ,  **phichit+chu** , and 23,758 others

 

View all 1,255 comments

**v-nikiforov** Oh my!

**yuris_angels_official** YURATCHKA 

 

Yakov coughed loudly behind him. “Yuri Plisetsky! Get on the rink right now!”

 

He whined dramatically; couldn’t he at least revel in how great his boyfriend was? Their cat, too! But he was already late, and didn’t want to experience the full effect of his coach’s short temper on such a good day. He’ll have all the time to ogle that picture later, anyways. And to save an uncountable number of identical screenshots of the post.

 

“Oh, and you better have saved me some of that cake!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**From: Beka (bear emoji)** (18:13)

>> Send me pictures of Samurai?

 

**To: Beka (bear emoji)** (18:14)

<<  _ You _ sent a photo.

<<  _ You _ sent a photo.

<<  _ You _ sent a photo.

<<  _ You _ sent a photo.

<<  _ You _ sent a photo.

<<  _ You _ sent a photo.

<< so cute

 

**From: Beka (bear emoji)** (18:16)

>> (smiling cat emoji)

>> Can’t wait to see both of you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this! kudos and comments are much appreciated. 
> 
> i'm currently working on another otayuri multichaptered fic, which you can read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11440491/chapters/25637907
> 
> talk to me on twitter @ramshackleheads and tumblr @programerror <3


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